


The First Time We Met

by SiwgrGalon



Category: The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: AU, First Meeting, Fluff, HIV/AIDS, M/M, Mentions of Chronic Illness, Mentions of Sexual Content, Post-Canon, Romance, Wedding, Weddings, first time i guess, mcpriceley, men of honor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 22:06:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10953657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SiwgrGalon/pseuds/SiwgrGalon
Summary: When Kevin Price attended his best friends' wedding, he didn't think he'd end up meeting someone for himself. But then a handsome stranger in a flower crown enters the scene, one of the newlyweds plays matchmaker, and Kevin has to overthink his definition of a first date.And that's not even addressing the one thing which ruined a lot of his dates in the past years.‘Let’s do one last one for now,’ Kevin replies, pulling Connor close. Really close.They’re nearly the same height, which means he can smell Connor’s aftershave or perfume, or whatever it is that makes him smell this nice.The pang of warmth and want curling in Kevin’s stomach comes as a surprise. It doesn’t let up when the song finishes, either.‘Wanna grab a drink and head somewhere quiet?’





	The First Time We Met

**Author's Note:**

> In this version, McKinley never went to Uganda, but Kevin and Arnold very much did.
> 
> Also, as per usual, this is not beta'd. I've given it a very close proofread, repeatedly, but... do you ever get those moments where you're so familiar with a text you don't see ANYTHING anymore? So, please, let me know the really bad ones!

When Kevin Price wakes, nothing seems out of the ordinary. He’s pleasantly warm, his head nestled into a fluffy pillow and the duvet is soft against his skin. 

It all feels so good after the whole busy day that was Arnold’s and Naba’s wedding yesterday. Like a very special reward, somehow. 

Kevin loves basking in this moment, the liminal space between sleep and wakefulness. He’d indulge more, but there is work to be done. 

When he cracks open an eye and slowly turns over to stretch, something else catches his attention: a flower crown, innocently resting on the sideboard. It makes Kevin stop in his tracks as something dawns on him.

He fully whips around to the other side, then, and everything slots into place. 

Because next to him, sleeping peacefully, lies another wedding guest, his face obscured by the fact that he’s lying on his stomach, one arm resting on the pillow above his head and the other one somewhere out of sight. 

Kevin doesn’t need to see more than the pale freckled shoulders, or the mussed up red hair standing out from the snow white sheets to know exactly who his bed partner is, and what they got up to last night. He knew everything the moment he laid eyes on that white-and-blush-pink crown, really. This is just confirmation. 

From the other side, a small sigh wakes Kevin from his daze. There is no further indication the other man is waking up, but Kevin still keeps his voice low. 

Then again, there’s nothing much he plans on saying. 

‘Whoa.’

////////////////

Kevin and Arnold are standing at the altar, the best man quietly comforting his best friend while his bride-to-be walks down the aisle, when something - or rather, someone - catches Kevin’s eye. 

Because while Nabulungi looks like a princess, walking behind her and Mafala is someone who momentarily makes Kevin forget how to breathe.

He’s tall and slim, dressed neatly in a blue suit, white shirt, and black bowtie. A white-and-blush-pink flower crown is perched atop carefully styled copper hair, and he wears a small, but very proud, smile on a rather boyish face. 

If Kevin _had_ a distinct type for men, this guy would probably be miles away from it - yet he can’t bring himself to look away, throughout the ceremony. Because of course he has to be Naba’s man of honor, which means they stand right across from each other. 

The mysterious stranger is a better friend, though, because his eyes don’t stray once (at least not that Kevin notices). In fact, he looks absolutely delighted for the entire time, which in turn probably makes Kevin’s face light up like a Christmas tree. 

He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but this is definitely a crush at first sight, Kevin muses somewhere between Arnold’s mother reading from the Bible and shedding a few tears of joy when the couple exchange their vows.

Funny, how it toook them so long still to finally tie the knot. But, Kevin muses, they probably wanted to be safe; with both Arnold and Naba in full-time jobs, that seems to be the case. And he’s happy for them, he really is, because they’re both wonderful people and deserve only the best. And, realistically, this means they’ll have kids soon, and he might get the chance to be the cool godfather to spoil at least one of them rotten. 

Kevin keeps mulling over the handsome stranger until everyone files out of the church, into the bright sun. He think this is his chance to maybe strike up conversation with his mysterious crush, too. Yet he’s surprisingly elusive - despite sticking out between just about anyone present - and the last Kevin sees of him is how he congratulates the newlyweds and vanishes into the crowd. 

Then it’s Kevin’s turn, and he makes sure to give both Arnold and Naba big squeezes and to shower them with congratulations. Their giddiness, their happiness, makes his heart swell and dance, and a giggle escapes Kevin when Naba squeezes him back. 

‘His name’s Connor,’ she whispers into his ear. 

‘You know - the cute ginger.’ 

Kevin pulls back, blushing furiously. Naba laughs quietly when she catches sight of him, and then pulls the flustered man back in. 

‘I saw you looking at him,’ she continues, as if sharing a secret. 

‘I’ll introduce you later.’ 

Then Kevin is thrust into the masses, striking up conversation with a number of relatives he knows. Mafala compliments him on his suit, before launching into a story of how things are progressing in Kitguli. 

Listening to him takes Kevin right back to Uganda. The hot sun and red earth; the lions and snakes, and the spooky sounds at night; their rickety hut, silence only disturbed by the snoring of eight teenage boys. The smells, and the food. Milking the goats. Digging wells. Doing all the odd jobs here and there. Accidentally starting a cult based on Mormonism. The close-knit community the missionaries and villagers eventually built, after starting and implementing said cult.

It makes Kevin just a little homesick, in a way. 

Mafala keeps him entertained until they reach the party venue, and then some. He’s like a second father, just less Mormon than Mr Price senior. Kevin enjoys every second, and every outrageous story is filed away for carefule reconsideration in those moments when he misses Uganda. 

The young man also catches sight of the redhead - Connor, his mind supplies - a few more times, his attention always dropping off for a few seconds, but he never gets the chance to get up and introduce himself. 

And even though they sit at the same table, alongside Arnold, Naba, and their families, all that happens is eye contact. 

Well, that, and a smile thrown Kevin’s way which makes something in him flutter. He wills himself to calm down; but another part of him enjoys having a crush, even if it might be limited to tonight, because it’s been a long time since Kevin has indulged himself like this. 

It is not until hours later, well after Arnold and Naba’s first dance, that Kevin finally gets to meet Connor. 

‘Alright, stop being so mopey.’ 

Kevin looks up from where he was aimlessly browsing through his phone while deciding on a game plan and mustering up some courage, and finds himself staring straight into Nabulungi’s smiling face. 

‘I’m not mopey,’ he protests, but his friend merely raises an eyebrow. 

Barely a second later she grasps Kevin’s hand and practially pulls him up from the chair. 

‘You so are mopey,’ she laughs, twirling them once. 

‘And I’m gonna change that right now.’

Her eyes hold a mischievous twinkle as she gives his hand another pull, prompting Kevin to readily follow her through the crowd. Once she set her mind to something there’s no stopping Naba, so he might as well save his energy. She’s a good friend, too, and Kevin knows in all her cheekiness she wouldn’t do anything mean.

When he catches sight of a flower crown and very red hair, Kevin gets an idea of what she is about to do. Suddenly he feels rather helpless and promptly digs his heels into the floor, which in turn makes Naba stop. 

‘Oh, I think I know what you’re about to do and no,’ Kevin says breathily. 

’Noooooooooo no no no. Oh, no. That is a very bad idea.’ 

And it feels like one, it really does, but at the same time he cannot take his eyes off the other man. 

‘Is it now?’ 

Naba doesn’t sound convinced. She doesn’t look convinced, either, as she steps closer to Kevin. 

‘Why would it be a bad idea?’ 

‘I don’t… I mean… what am I gonna _say_? I don’t even know him!’ 

‘Well, his name is Connor. He’s a very sweet guy, very funny and creative,’ Nabulungi says, her eyes twinkling nearly as much as the lovely necklace she is wearing. Or the diamond on her finger. 

‘He lives in New York, like you, he’s the one who choreographed our wedding dance and then taught it to Arnold and me… he’s ex-Mormon, like you, and you, Mister, have been watching him all evening. And you looked like a lost puppy for the entire time.’ 

Without further ado she continues pulling Kevin along. 

’So come on, I told you I’d introduce you,’ she looks over her shoulder at Kevin, her gaze softening. 

‘I promise, you’ll love him.’

And then Naba steps onto the dance floor where the redhead is dancing with Mrs Cunningham, and taps him on the shoulder. 

The reaction is almost immediate. He gracefully turns around, momentary confused expression wiped away by a brilliant smile when he sees Naba. 

‘Well, hello, if that’s not my favorite bride.’

She curtsies with a little laugh. But when Connor steps a little closer, clearly ready to dance with Naba, she gently pushes Kevin in his direction. 

‘This dance is not for me,’ she chides her man of honor. 

‘Have you forgotten how to be a gentleman? You never dance with the bride before you’ve danced with all the people who want to dance with you. And you clearly forgot someone.’ 

Kevin is pretty sure that’s a made up rule. 

Two men dancing would be unusual, given they’re surrounded by a majority of Mormons. But Connor doesn’t hesitate much. He pulls Kevin closer, carefully, and begins to sway them. Although Kevin is in the position to lead, it’s very much the other man who’s doing the actual leading - at least for now. 

For a minute there is nothing but silence, until Kevin notices Naba making off to the next guests out of the corner of his eyes. That’s when the man in his arms speaks up. 

‘Is this actually okay with you, or is she bullying you into it?’ 

His voice is smooth and just the pitch Kevin imagined; he thinks Connor would make a great singer. 

‘What, like she bullied you into wearing a flower crown?’ 

That earns Kevin an amused chuckle. 

‘No, not like that,’ the other man says, and then twirls around his own axis. Oh, right. He’s dancing the woman’s steps, Kevin thinks, and twirls his partner once more. 

‘She said she found them pretty and was a little sad she didn’t have bridesmaids to wear them. And I’m gay enough to go with it and not feel weird.’ 

Now it’s Kevin’s turn to laugh. Connor’s honesty is refreshing. 

‘Kevin Price,’ he introduces himself. 

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’ 

Connor inclines his head, then, just as the song ends. 

‘Connor McKinley.’ 

‘Red hair and an Irish name, what a surprise.’ 

It’s out before Kevin can stop himself. He instantly regrets it, before he notices the smile flitting across Connor’s face. 

‘You think you’re witty, hm? Well, Kevin Price, you’re about 22 years late for any Irish-heritage-and-red-hair jokes,’ comes the reply, without any malice. 

‘But I’ll let you have this one, with an A* for effort.’ 

He’s cute when he smiles like that, Kevin thinks. Not that he didn’t think of Connor as cute before, it just… intensified just now. 

The next song starts up, and they’re back to dancing. And the next, and the next, and the one after that. Kevin loses track of the time he spends dancing with Connor. The only thing interrupting them is their small talk; none of the other guests cuts in.

It’s mostly inane, really. About the other guests, and how wedding prep went, and what it was like to teach Arnold how to dance (‘Hilarious,’ Connor had said. ‘But mainly because Arn is just funny as a person. He’s actually a really good dancer.’).

Connor is a fantastic dancer. Three songs in he finally lets Kevin lead fully and just follows the cues, and if the other man thought it was amazing before, it only gets better. 

Until the mood changes to something a bit more romantic. Both men hesitate for a second, Kevin searching for Connor’s opinion. The other man just shrugs. 

‘Do you want to continue dancing?’

‘Let’s do one last one for now,’ Kevin replies, pulling Connor close. Really close. 

They’re nearly the same height, which means he can smell Connor’s aftershave or perfume, or whatever it is that makes him smell this nice.

The pang of warmth and want curling in Kevin’s stomach comes as a surprise. It doesn’t let up when the song finishes, either. 

‘Wanna grab a drink and head somewhere quiet?’ 

Connor draws back and musters Kevin before nodding. Whether it’s excited or court isn’t quite clear, but the young man decides to settle on the first for his own sake. 

Because Naba was right - Connor is really nice, and Kevin definitely likes him. Only in what capacity he is still trying to figure out. 

They end up on the venue’s terrace, overlooking and leading into the gardens. There is nobody else here, which is a relief but also makes things a little… weird to start with.

‘So, what do you do,’ Kevin asks to break the ice. 

‘You know, when not attending weddings?’

Before answering, Connor looks into the distance as if assembling an answer. 

‘Hmm, guess.’ 

He throws Kevin a smile, but Connor’s eyes hold a challenge. Kevin musters him from top to bottom, mentally going through all the jobs he can think of. 

‘I don’t know. It’s… this sounds like a trap question,’ is his first reply. Then he remembers Naba calling her man of honor creative. 

‘A writer, maybe? Or a designer? Not necessarily fashion, although you’re well-dressed and all, but you could work in advertising or something.’

Connor just raises an eyebrow, that smile still playing on his face. He lets Kevin hang for just a minute, before shaking his head. 

‘I’m a principal dancer with New York City Ballet,’ he says, airily, and effortlessly hops to sit onto a low wall.

‘But I’ve started auditioning for musical theatre and straight plays, before the whole bodily decay thing starts.’ 

And suddenly everything that just happened slots into place. Kevin definitely noticed that there is more to Connor when dancing, but now a few things make a lot more sense. 

‘What do you mean? You know, with “bodily decay”? Aren’t ballet dancers super healthy? And also… aren’t ballet dancers the ones who eat fairly little? Or was today like a cheat day?’ 

All the questions trigger a breezy laugh. Kevin feels himself drawn in closer by some invisible force; they end up standing next to each other and looking into the other’s face. 

‘Well, yes, we’re kinda healthy,’ Connor turns somewhat serious again.

‘But I spend a lot of my day doing things the human body wasn’t designed to do. And I lift a lot of girls, which, you know, is putting a lot of pressure on my back, especially my lower back. All these are injury risks, and injuries are career risks. I’m 28, so the wrong kind of injury could instantly mean everything’s over. 

‘I love ballet, don’t get me wrong, but I love my body more… and, to be honest, I’ve always loved musical theater, really. 

‘As for the eating… that’s, like, the worst myth. I’m kinda nearly all muscle, when you look at the numbers, and I need about 4,000 calories a day to maintain my weight and figure and all that. So, yeah, today was no exception. I eat like a normal person, if maybe a bit more and a bit healthier, most of the time. And the ladies are the same, really.’ 

‘Huh.’ 

Kevin is a little stumped right there. He’d taken Connor for maybe a little younger than himself - not for a year older. 

‘You, uhm, look younger?’

Connor chuckles again, softly. 

‘Thank you,’ he says, inclining his head once more. Kevin is fascinated by how graceful it looks. 

‘So, what does Kevin Price do, then?’ 

‘Me? Oh, um, nothing that exciting or special,’ he starts. 

‘I’m a reporter with the New York Post. But not an acclaimed one, just, you know, a reporter.’

‘That’s cool, though!’ 

‘Not as cool as a dancer,’ Kevin replies. He suddenly does feel a little ordinary. 

‘And definitely not as glamorous.’ 

‘Well, dancing isn’t all glitz and glamour,’ Connor says, never taking his eyes off Kevin. 

‘It’s long hours, and pretty hard physical labor in between. And there’s physio, and pilates, and fittings, and you have to do press rounds and all. I mean, that’s pretty first world whining right there, but, you know… it’s not all glamour.’ 

Kevin doesn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t mean to offend anyone, least of all the redhead; yet he still seems to have put his foot in. He doesn’t want to make it worse. 

When he doesn’t say anything, Connor slowly moves to stand next to him. After a minute of further silence, he bumps Kevin with his hip. 

‘But, you know… meeting celebrities is pretty worth it. And people asking for a picture with you, too,’ he says, keeping his tone light. 

‘The reporters though… cheeky lot, those ones. You can’t tell them anything, but ever so often, one is so handsome you kinda want to.’ 

Something loosens inside the Kevin at the other man’s teasing tone, prompting him to laugh. 

‘Is that so?’ 

‘Hmmm,’ Connor hums, turning his head to the side. Out of the corner of his eye Kevin can see a pair of blue eyes carefully looking at him. 

‘Very occasionally.’ 

’So, met anyone cute recently?’ 

Kevin feels like mentally slapping himself. Is he really just flirting with a guy he met about an hour ago, or so? Even after pining after him for the better part of the day? 

‘Well,’ Connor draws the e-sound out, as if he has to think really hard. 

‘Maybe.’ 

He doesn’t elaborate, but if Kevin reads it right, the look Connor throws him says more than enough. 

‘So specific,’ he teases, and it’s Kevin’s turn to hipcheck Connor. 

‘You really are a man of mystery.’ 

‘No, but a gentleman never kisses and tells,’ comes the reply, a smirk playing around Connor’s lips. 

‘But your reporter is showing, with all those questions.’ 

Kevin just laughs and checks Connor again, before leaning against the wall so he’s looking at the other man. 

‘Well, what can I say? It’s a job hazard,’ he says. 

It’s so easy for to be like this with Connor, to not check his humor. And the other man just seems to get him, in a way that should probably be a little concerning or weird. But it just feels natural, as if they had been friends for years already. 

Maybe, if nothing else, I just made a very good new friend, Kevin thinks. 

That’d be nice. While he’s not unpopular, and never has been, building a social circle in New York is turning out to be tricky. Of course, part of Kevin’s struggle is down to the fact that the community he comes from, back home in Provo, is incredibly close. Add to that his big, tight-knit family and it’s no wonder he’s finding New York a bit challenging at times. At least when it comes to more than casual friendships. 

‘So, who does Kevin Price share a life with?’

Subtlety is not Connor’s strength right now, Kevin thinks, and can’t hold back the chuckle.

‘My colleagues, and my family whenever I see them,’ Kevin answers. 

‘What, no girlfriend?’ 

‘No, and no boyfriend, either.’ 

He’s never hoped someone will get the hint as he is doing in this exact moment.

Connor smiles, slowly but brightly. 

‘Oh, okay,’ he says, amusement evident in his voice. Kevin pretends to kick him. 

‘Don’t pretend you’re surprised,’ he says, jokingly. 

‘Well, but I am,’ Connor says. 

‘After all, from what I heard, you’re a good, upstanding Mormon.’ 

‘Ex-Mormon, just like you, apparently,’ Kevin shoots back. 

‘And, you know, it’s not like religion can influence who we like and who we don’t like.’ 

‘Well, tell me about that.’ 

This time, Connor sounds bitter. Kevin makes to apologize, but before he gets the chance the slight cloud marring the redheads’ face vanishes. Nevertheless, the silence stretches. 

‘Where did you serve your mission, then?’ 

Somehow, Kevin feels the need to distract Connor. But he’s also genuinely curious, because although he has a very vivid and active imagination, he cannot see Connor as a missionary anywhere. Or rather, he cannot imagine him in the standard, and rather boring, missionary uniform. 

‘I didn’t serve one,’ comes the reply. Kevin’s ears perk up at the wistful tone in Connor’s voice, and decides to dig deeper. 

‘Wait… but you are Mormon, right?’ 

When he gets a nod in return, Kevin is intrigued. For him, not serving was never an option; neither was it for any of his friends. To meet someone who never made that experience, despite sharing the same former faith, is intriguing to say the least. 

‘Well, I was Mormon. I’m… culturally Mormon, if you wish, but I haven’t set foot in a Church for years, or been involved in anything. Being gay doesn’t go well with faith, for me at least.’

That Kevin does understand. 

‘Can I ask why you didn’t? I mean, you don’t have to say, but… .’

Connor’s raised hand interrupts him. Then he throws Kevin a smile that makes warmth spread over his face. 

‘No, it’s okay. It’s nothing bad or anything, I just didn’t really have the time, or the money,’ Connor says. 

‘Didn’t you save?’ 

‘Well, I tried, but my family didn’t have much money,’ Connor says. 

‘Or rather, we weren’t poor, but I have six sisters, so, you know. And then I started ballet, and made a career choice. So, when the guys I knew from Church packed up to go on their missions, I had already packed up and was in New York, to be come a professional dancer. Because, you know, everyone went at 19ish, but when we finished school at 18, I was already mid-auditions.’ 

‘Whoa, that’s… impressive,’ Kevin says, unable to keep the amazement out of his voice. 

‘I’ve never met someone who hasn’t served a mission. This is just so… mind blowing.’ 

‘Let me guess,’ Connor says, the cheek returning to his voice. 

‘Utah Mormon?’ 

‘Ugh, is it that obvious?’ 

‘Nah, not really, until now. You guys all hop off onto your missions, and you never have eben the hint of a choice,’ the other man says, moving so he is leaning next to Kevin. 

‘Yeah, well,’ he says, turning his head to look at Connor. 

‘Without my mission I wouldn’t have met Arnold, and then we probably wouldn’t be here tonight.’ 

‘True. Without you and Arnold going on a mission, I wouldn’t ever have met Naba,’ the other man says, smiling slightly. 

‘But, you know, I’m still kinda jealous. Or rather, I sometimes wish I’d gone on a mission.’ 

That, in turn, makes Kevin fully turn his body towards the other man. He feels his eyebrows creep up his forehead, because, well. Thinking back to his own mission and how it panned out, combined with the fact that both him and Connor seem to have dropped their faith, it seems such a weird thing to wish for. 

Kevin doesn’t have to aks for details, though; Connor just gives them freely. A look at Kevin’s face, confused and curious, was probably enough to prompt him. 

‘Don’t look that confused,’ he chides jokingly. 

‘It’s just me wishing for the childhood I never had, or something.’ 

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, ballet dancers mature quick, and early,’ Connor says, nudging Kevin with his elbow as he speaks. 

‘I started dancing when I was barely four years old. By the time I was 11, I was building up to being a pre-professional dancer. It’s a lot of discipline, and a lot of work; when other kids went on playdates or things with their parents, I went to the dance studio for an hour or three. That’s just how it is.’ 

Now it’s Kevin’s turn to chuckle and nudge Connor. 

‘You’re weird,’ he says, letting all the affection he somehow feels for him pour in. 

‘You’d think you’d wish for, I don’t know, a trip to Orlando, Florida, to go to Disneyworld or all these things. Not for a trip to some far-off country, to slave away for two years.’ 

‘It’s the cute boys in uniforms which make it interesting, really,’ Connor replies, sounding decidedly smug. 

‘And unlike my deeply closeted teenage self, who believed he could pray himself straight if he just pretended hard enough, I would now be able to appreciate them.’ 

They look at each other, wearing matching grins on their faces, before one of them finally cracks and they start laughing. And keep laughing. So hard, they end up leaning against each other and holding on for dear life. 

The pair spend the next hours talking, oblivious to time passing. In between, they pop back in for a bit of a dance - with more than just each other - and they even manage to find each other on Facebook and exchange numbers. 

Still, it comes as a surprise when they end up kissing, once more back in the gardens. 

Kevin doesn’t know who initiated it - he has a feeling it was himself - but it’s good. Very good. 

It’s even more of a surprise when, once the party is over and Connor has instructed Arnold on how to get his bride out of her lavish dress, they end up sneaking into Connor’s hotel room. Together. 

But between surprisingly urgent kisses, Kevin suddenly feels a pang of something else, and he pushes Connor away. The other man follows the guidance, sitting back on his haunches and curiously looking at Kevin. 

‘There’s… uhm… we need to talk.’ 

Connor’s head is tilted to the side; he looks so much like a curious puppy, Kevin thinks. It’s those darn blue eyes and the fact that he looks so innocent, like butter wouldn’t melt. 

‘Is something wrong? If you don’t want to do this, it’s fine,’ he says. Kevin has only known him for a few hours, but somehow… there’s something about Connor that makes it easy to believe him.

‘We can just… talk, you know. Gosh, that sounds so cheesy. But I mean it - no hard feelings, whatever’s the deal. And no pun intended.’ 

Kevin just chuckles and shakes his head, somewhat fondly. 

‘No, I want to,’ he says. 

‘The question is whether you do.’ 

The look on Connor’s face changes to confusion more than anything else. It’s like he’s silently prompting Kevin to go on. 

He doesn’t want to get his hopes up, though. Connor seems a nice guy, but he wouldn’t be the first one to turn Kevin down. 

‘I don’t want to beat around the bush,’ he says, sounding foreign to his own ears. This never gets easier; the frequent rejection doesn’t hurt less, either. 

‘I’m HIV positive. Undetectable, but HIV positive.’ 

The silence is deafening. They just look at each other, for a bit. Kevin’s fingers are tingling. And the back of his neck, too. 

‘Oh,’ the other man says, finally, after what feels like hours but in reality was seconds. If even. He sounds mostly neutral, if a little surprised.

‘Okay.’

‘I’m sorry, I should’ve told you earlier,’ Kevin hastens to explain, turning his gaze onto the duvet. Pristine. Like he won’t ever be again. 

‘And, you know, don’t feel obliged to stay. I get it; I’m a risk, and people don’t cope well with that. It’s okay, I’m used to the rejection.’ 

That’s when Connor chuckles, and Kevin bristles. Nobody has ever laughed at him, at least not in his presence. Then there’s movement on the bed, and as he looks up, Kevin finds them nearly nose to nose. 

‘You’re cute _and_ a bit silly,’ Connor says airily, before kissing him. Kevin leans in, before his sound of disagreement stops them in their tracks. 

‘Wait, what?’ 

‘I just called you a bit silly,’ Connor says, sitting back on his haunches. 

‘Yeah, I heard that, thanks,’ Kevin responds. 

‘But… you’re okay with this? With me?’

‘Of course I am,’ Connor says, his tone suddenly surprisingly serious. 

‘We all have our faults, or things to live with. Yours is not really a fault… sorry, that was an incredibly rude word to use.

‘But, you know. I’m on the best way to ruin my body, all for a dream. Or was, before I started auditioning for musical and straight theater; it’s infinitely easier to live with, yes, but your HIV infection doesn’t mean I suddenly lose interest in you just because you’re not what society deems “perfect” or whatever. 

‘And, I mean, it’s not like you’re going any places without a condom. Plus, I’m on PrEP. 

‘Between that, your viral load being undetectable, and us using condoms, the risk is nearly nonexistent.’ 

He has the audacity to wink, then, and leans forward again to rest his forehead against Kevin’s. 

‘So, if you’re still game, so am I.’ 

Kevin just has to kiss him. Hard. The force with which he surges forward topples them over, but Connor doesn’t seem to mind too much if his wandering hands are anything to go by. He giggles, too, and Kevin finds himself replying in kind. 

It’s been so long since he’s been touched in a way that makes him feel really wanted, he realizes. 

Whether Connor notices or just likes to appreciate him out of his own curiosity and nature Kevin doesn’t know, but he still enjoys it. The way the redhead dances his fingers over Kevin’s abs, his shoulders, and down his back; how he touches and tastes him, without the slightest bit of hesitation.

As they undress each other, Kevin realizes Connor is definitely a real, full-on redhead. Out of the suit his profession shows, too: while not overly ripped, he’s decidedly more muscular than Kevin would have thought. A pair of strong thighs, comparatively bulky to the lean and slim rest of him, are accompanied by nice hipbones and a bellybutton fitting just perfectly onto the tip of Kevin’s tongue. (That particular experiment reveals Connor to be not just a rather responsive lover, but a ticklish one too. If you hit the right spots, it seems.)

Kevin likes the way their bodies slot together, neatly, and how Connor is so playful. He even ruffles Kevin’s hair, deliberately and with a laugh, when Kevin digs for the lube and the little foil packets they lost between the pillows. Kevin silences him with more kisses. 

There’s also something in the way Connor’s slim hips fit and feel in Kevin’s hands, how gripping them strongly elicits the most beautiful little moan. The sigh when Kevin pushes in, followed by a rather luxurious, slow stretch - as if Connor wanted to saviour the feeling - and a quiet ‘hmm, you’re big’ from the man below him. 

He really does know how to stroke every part of Kevin, including his ego.

It feels natural to stay afterwards. They keep a little distance between them, but in his bubble of content and satisfaction, Kevin doesn’t mind. 

‘I’m sorry,’ Connor murmurs, breaking the comfortable silence; his voice is unfamiliar and almost neutral. Suddenly, Kevin feels a little awkwardness creep in. 

As if on cue they both turn their faces to the side, looking at each other. Reading Connor’s face is even harder. Still, Kevin prepares himself for rejection once more.

It would’ve been too good to be true.

‘I shouldn’t have called you silly,’ Connor continues, and shame blossoms across his face. 

The relief floods Kevin like a river. He chuckles, too, and reaches out. Until he remembers this is probably going to be a one time thing, and intimacy might not be welcome. So instead of stroking Connor, or pulling him in, Kevin drops his hand in the space between them. 

‘It’s okay,’ he says. It is, was, really.

‘Is it, though? I mean… you were telling me something very important, which I can’t imagine to be easy, and I went ahead and called you silly. As if, you know, I didn’t take it, take you, seriously.

‘Which isn’t the case. So, I’m sorry.’

Oh, my, Kevin thinks. He really is sweet.

‘Yeah, it was okay,’ he says. 

‘You were right, kinda. It wasa bit silly, wasn’t it? And it’s not the worst thing anyone’s ever said to me, either. But thank you for your apology - it’s accepted, even if there’s nothing to apologize for.’ 

This time, the silence is more comfortable. Kevin might be imagining it, but at some point Connor seems to scoot a little closer. He never takes his eyes off Kevin, either way. It should probably be unnerving, but Kevin finds it rather sweet and enjoys the attention. 

A deep breath is the first hint that Connor is gearing up for something. It’s such a universally human sound; that deep inhale-exhale, as if you’re trying to relax yourself and your opposite. 

‘If you don’t mind me asking,’ he starts, before falling silent again. Something in Connor’s eyes changes. They cloud over, and his voice is surprisingly quiet when he speaks next. 

‘Your… uhm… how did you actually get infected? And, you know, how did you find out?’ 

He hastens to add: ‘You don’t have to answer if…’, but Kevin interrupts him.

‘On my mission,’ he says, matter-of-factly. 

‘We can’t pinpoint the exact date, but it was either when me and Arnold saw a guy get shot in the face and I had my face splattered with blood in the process - probably swallowed some, and I definitely got some in my eye - or when we helped out a friend. 

‘I was stupid enough to not wear gloves when he hurt himself, and I must’ve gotten a small cut or pricked myself while helping him, so it was that whole direct blood contact thing. Both are possible.’

‘Oh, okay. Thank you for telling me.’ 

‘Thank you for asking. You’re the second person to not just assume,’ Kevin says, and this time it’s him who scoots a little closer. 

‘Are you freaking out now?’ 

Connor just raises his eyebrow. 

‘Psssh, what? Why? As I said, I’m on PrEP,’ he says, the confidence returning to his voice and mannerisms. With it comes that stunning sincerity and openness he displayed so much tonight. 

‘And, you know, safer sex. No, I was just deliberating whether I wanted to ask for what happened after. Also, you were just trying to help.’ 

‘Well, yeah, and it was stupid and landed me on lifelong mediaction,’ Kevin says, and if he sounds a bit bitter that’s surely understandable. 

‘But, you know, to answer your half-asked question… after the needle incident, like, weeks later, I felt a bit ill. Like the flu, or something. 

‘Nobody thought anything of it, until I remembered that day. When I told the village doc, he said we needed to test me for HIV. That came back positive, so we did another test to be sure. Positive again, so we requested medication.

‘And if that wasn’t weird enough… have you ever tried requesting money for HIV medication from the Mormon Church? I’m pretty sure the Mission President thought I’d done something very different.’ 

Connor laughs a little, and Kevin joins in. It is quite funny, in hindsight. He’ll most likely live to see at least 60, too, more likely beyond 70. If a little pill or three can ensure that, he’s more than happy to take them. 

‘But you’re fine now? Not just physically, I mean…’

The rest of the sentence hangs between them. Kevin feels like it should be judgmental, or at least hard to talk about, but he finds himself nodding nearly eagerly. 

‘I’m absolutely okay,’ he says, before a yawn cuts him short. Almost immediately his bed partner replies in kind, snuggling a little deeper into the pillow. 

‘I’ll tell you the rest tomorrow, or so. It’s not pillow talk, really.’

Connor nods, a little sleepily. 

‘Since you’re staying, where do you stand on actually cuddling?’ 

Kevin smiles, then. 

‘Is Connor McKinley the big spoon or the little spoon?’ 

With a lingering look, the redhead turns around, slowly. The other man gets the invitation. He draws him in - not quite as close as he’d do with a long-term partner, but close enough to feel skin on still slightly sweaty skin. 

There are no more words, just quiet breathing, the smell of what they did, and warmth. 

 

///////////////////////

Kevin doesn’t know how much time he lets just float by while he indulges in the memory. At some point, he finds himself drawn towards movement on the other side of the bed, and then blue eyes meet blue eyes. 

And Connor _giggles_. 

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Kevin gives him a push, deciding to ignore all social conventions that go along with one night stands. If this even was one. 

‘It’s… how cheesy will it sound if I say that I normally don’t do this?’ 

Connor blushes as silence falls. Kevin thinks it’s hilarious that he’s suddenly so coy, when last night he was anything but. Something warm rises back up inside him, and his mind develops an idea of its own. 

‘What? Sex on the first date?’ 

The redhead rolls his eyes and sits up, his joints cracking and popping in the process. When he stretches, Kevin finds himself transfixed by the muscles moving under the pale skin. 

Going by Connor’s look, he is very obviously staring, so Kevin makes a point of actually looking into the other man’s face. 

‘Well. No,’ Connor says. 

‘So you are like that.’ Kevin makes sure to sound as teasing as humanly possible, just to draw it out a little. 

‘More, like… sex before the first date,’ Connor says. 

‘Because I’m not sure of your definition, but pulling someone at your best friend’s wedding is not a first date in my book.’ 

This is your chance, the little voice (which sounds annoyingly like Arnold) in Kevin’s head says. 

His mouth follows suit and blurts out the first thing Kevin can think of. 

‘Well, would you like to go on a date with me, then?’ 

He licks his lips, nervously, just as his heart starts to race. Across from him, Connor’s eyes have gone impossibly wide, which makes him look like a startled deer. Quite literally. 

The silence is killing Kevin. Because Connor knows, knows about him and the virus in his blood, knows about all the things he’d have to miss out on, and Kevin is sure he’ll be rejected. 

But then a brilliant smile takes over the other man’s face, and a hand runs into red hair, ruffling the thick strands which last night felt so good between Kevin’s fingers. 

‘I’d like that,’ he says, shooting Kevin an earnest look. 

‘Very much, actually.’ 

And there’s only one thing Kevin, in his dumbfounded, confused excitement can say. 

‘Whoa.’

**Author's Note:**

> Just a (hopefully) sweet thing to pick me up on a bad day! Also, the HIV-thing has been bugging me for a bit; while the chance of Kevin getting infected from the guy being shot in the face, it's a possibility and one I thought I'd play around with a little. Apologies. :) 
> 
> As per usual, I hope you liked it - leave me kudos or a comment if you did and would like to let me know!


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